


Germ Theory

by someinstant



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someinstant/pseuds/someinstant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I were stupid enough to ask how you were feeling today," Merlin wondered aloud as he changed Arthur's sweat-dampened sheets, "would you actually tell me, or would you just grunt something incomprehensible in my general direction?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Germ Theory

"If I were stupid enough to ask how you were feeling today," Merlin wondered aloud as he changed Arthur's sweat-dampened sheets, "would you actually tell me, or would you just grunt something incomprehensible in my general direction?"

"Fuck off and die," Arthur said, flushed and miserable. He was wrapped in a thick wool blanket in front of the fire, teeth chattering even in the warmth of the late afternoon. Beside him sat a basin (currently empty, thank god), his constant companion for the past three days. It was a pathetic sight: the Crown Prince of Camelot, laid low by a summer flux. It was nearly enough to make Merlin sympathetic.

Except for how the Crown Prince, even after vomiting for three straight days, was still an utter _ass_.

"Oh, hey," said Merlin, fluffing a pillow. "I forgot that option: offensive language with no real purpose. Thanks for reminding me." He pulled back the fresh sheets and coverlet. "Come on," he said, patting the bed, "It's time for all good princes to go beddy-bye."

"God, I hate you," Arthur grumbled, shuffling over to the bed while clutching his basin. "I hope you spend the next week vomiting up your spleen."

"Don't think that's going to happen," Merlin said brightly, pulling the sheets up. "I mean, it's pretty much made the rounds by now: Gwen's had it, Morgana's had it, and so have two of the undercooks and at least one of the laundresses, and most of the knights have had it, too. Even your father's been confined to his rooms for the past few days. I think if I were going to be sick, I would be already." Merlin chattered while he crossed the room to fetch the wash basin. "You know, Lady Eaton and her traveling party had it first, and Gaius thinks that whatever it is, they must have brought it with them."

"What, like a curse?" Arthur said, trying to push himself up on his elbows. "Sorcery?"

"Lay back down, you idiot," Merlin said, pressing gently on the prince's chest. "Like you're in any state to go after a sorcerer. What could you do to him?" he asked, pouring water into the basin. "Throw up all over his boots?" Arthur scowled. It wasn't attractive in the least.

"No," Merlin continued. "Gaius does _not_ think this is caused by a curse. More like, how bad water upstream makes people sick downstream. Only Gaius thinks it's maybe something in the air, or on the skin." Merlin wrung out a rag and put the cool cloth on Arthur's forehead. "Better?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, settling back onto the pillows. "But that's ridiculous," he said. "The windows have been opened, so it's not bad air. And if it's on the skin, then I shouldn't be sick. I bathed three nights ago, and got sick directly after."

Merlin shrugged. "I know. But Gaius insists. You know," he said, grinning, "he had me break into your father's cellars for brandy last night."

Arthur's eyes, which had been drooping shut, reopened. "Gaius stealing the king's brandy? You must think I'm completely addled."

"Not completely, sire," Merlin said. "Only somewhat."

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled. "I'm the prince and you can't talk to me like that."

"Yeah, because that's going to happen," Merlin scoffed. "Anyway, Gaius wanted the brandy. And now he's making me wash my hands with it before I eat and whenever I come back from your rooms."

"Waste of a good brandy," Arthur said, his eyes drifting shut again.

"That's what I told him," Merlin said. He settled down in the chair next to Arthur's bed and picked up the book he'd left there. "Don't have him put in the stocks, okay? It'd be really bad for his back."

Arthur sniffed. "Wouldn't do that," he muttered.

"I know," said Merlin, and wished he didn't sound quite so fond.


End file.
